[English] THE WITCH WITH NO NAME

The Witch With No Name
The Witch With No Name Page 110



“That is not fair!” Ivy exclaimed, and David nodded his agreement. I could see him already going over his resources, the worry pinching his brow.

Al, too, was glowering, but it was Professor Anders who said, “The academic society will not go along with this. The lines cannot be reinstated. Don’t expect any help from us.”

Vivian smiled cattily. “We never do.”

The tension had risen, and I suddenly realized that Mark had quietly been getting people out the door over the last five minutes. Smart man.

“David?” Trent asked. “What can we expect from the streets?”

David started from his thoughts. “Ah, I’m not really a representative. I was there because they couldn’t find anyone else on short notice.”

The reality was that the Weres didn’t have an overseeing board of individuals that governed the rest of their species, but if there was one, David was it, given the focus, and I touched his hand and motioned for him to be out with it.

“Um, I’ll talk to the packs I can reach,” he said, “but I can tell you right now, we’d rather have the vampires freak out as they reorganize under fewer masters than risk not being able to shift. We’ve hidden before, we can do it again.” He glanced at Ivy. “I’m sorry.”

But no one was sorry for Al, and he was under the same risk of extermination if the lines were destroyed.

Professor Anders let her clasped hands hit the table, clearly miffed. “The vampires have been scared into following a voice promising salvation. If we give them an alternative, I think they’ll take it. I say our focus should be on finding a way to capture and fix individual undead souls before they have a chance to rejoin their original bodies. If nothing else, it might calm the vampires enough to realize Landon is playing them for fools. They don’t want a world without magic any more than we do. I would like to head that up if I may.”

Trent and I had already figured out how to capture an undead soul, but before I could say anything, Ivy drummed her fingers, clearly ticked. “Cormel won’t go for individual collection. In fact, it’s worse knowing that your soul is on the shelf, able to complete you but will end your life if you join with it.”

I’m so sorry, Ivy. I keep trying to help you, and I only keep making things worse.

“Rachel has already pioneered and patented the white curse needed to capture an undead soul,” Al said, his expression almost beatific as he gazed at the uptight professor. “I’d be delighted to explain it to you. How are you at making coffee?”

Professor Anders looked him over. “I make excellent coffee, but you’re making your own.” She hesitated, shifting away from him for the very first time. “I don’t trust you.”

Unperturbed, Al stood and extended a hand for her. “That is what makes it interesting,” he almost crooned. “Shall we go to your lab? Or mine?”

“Al and Anders, sitting in a tree—” Jenks sang out, then yelped at the twin pops of magic exploding under him, one from Anders, one from Al.

Eyes squinted in mistrust, Professor Anders stood and placed her hand in Al’s. The demon beamed, and she gasped as they just . . . vanished. Both their coffees went with them.

Trent shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, that was something I hadn’t expected. Vivian, where are you staying?”

It sounded like things were wrapping up, and there’d been no decisions, just ideas that weren’t going to work. “What about Landon?” I asked.

“I’m staying downtown at the Cincinnatian,” Vivian said, tucking her notes away in a tiny purse that had to be bigger on the inside than the out. “Give me until noon.” She hesitated as she stood. “Ah, make that three. They might not be up yet. I’ll have a better idea of what the coven will do.”

But I already knew they’d back Landon, and I slumped.

“Good.” Trent leaned his chair back on two legs with his hands clasped behind his head, looking pleased with what we’d learned. “I’ve found a few pieces of support in the dewar. Perhaps we can pool our resources if you find enough dissent.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Vivian gave me a nod. “See you when it’s done, Rachel. Try not to destroy Cincinnati like you did San Francisco.”

“That was Ku’Sox!” I said as she nodded to Jenks and Ivy, both of whom looked as happy as I felt—that is, not at all.

“David, you want a ride somewhere?” Vivian asked, and David pulled himself out of his thoughts with a grunt and reached for his phone.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Trent’s chair came back down onto all fours. “Actually, David, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

David perked up, hiding a sly smile that had Vivian putting a hand on her hip. “What are you planning?” she accused.

“Ah, just the local distribution of the packs to minimize disruption to services,” Trent lied, and Ivy sent Jenks to get a croissant. We might be here awhile. “The same thing the packs did the last time the vampires panicked.”

“Yeah, okay,” the smart woman said, and then seeing that no one was going to say anything more while she was standing there, she stomped out to the rental car she’d driven them all here in. “I don’t want to know, anyway, do I!” she called back over her shoulder before the door shut.

Excited, I sat up. All the busybodies were gone, leaving those who had the guts to actually do something. “What are we going to do?”

Trent smiled at my enthusiasm, then sobered at Ivy’s calm, deadly anticipation and David’s expectation. Outside, Vivian raced the car’s engine and left. “Vivian will try, but the coven is going to side with Landon to banish the undead souls and drain the ever-after for the energy to reinstate the lines,” Trent said.

“It’s unethical,” Ivy said bitterly, and I thought of the demons, facing their own maybe demise. It hurt that no one seemed to care.

“I agree,” Trent said in placation, “but fear will convince the coven and the dewar to follow him. Our number one priority is to find Landon.” Trent smiled at me, and finally my shoulders started to ease. “We have until tomorrow at sunset.”

Jenks made a burst of dust in worry. “What’s to stop him from doing it tonight?”

“It’s the equinox,” I said, only now remembering it. “Tomorrow, about an hour before sunset. If he’s going to break the lines, that’s when he’s going to do it. All things will be equal.”

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Trent was nodding, and Ivy exhaled as she slumped back. “At least we have some time to plan this one,” she said sarcastically. “Tomorrow?”

Hell, I didn’t need a plan, just a direction.

“The thing about a collective curse is that it can be broken if the person orchestrating it is, ah . . .” Trent’s voice trailed off as he searched for a word.

“Killed?” Jenks suggested, striking a pose and stabbing the sugar packets.

“I was going to say distracted,” Trent said, and Jenks held his cup under the tiny stream of sugar spilling out.

“Killed works for me,” David said. “I’m all for live and let live, but this guy is knowingly hurting too many people.”

“Take Landon out and they’ll just find someone else to do it,” Ivy said glumly.

“Perhaps, but they will have to wait an entire six months. And if we can’t convince Landon to cease, we might be able to work a clause into the curse that will shift it to our liking, but we have to find him first.”

My eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”

Trent shifted uncomfortably. “With some planning. It’s how the elves originally turned the curse around and trapped the demons in the ever-after instead of us. Landon won’t be looking for such subterfuge, but we have to physically be involved in the casting of the curse to break the lines, and for that, we need to find him.”

“Ivy, I can use your help with that,” David said, and the despairing look Ivy had been wearing since I walked in finally eased.

“Jenks can keep us clean,” Trent said, and the pixy’s sparkles turned a bright silver. “Which will leave you and me, Rachel, to twist the curse to our liking.”

“And maybe Mark to make us a couple more coffees while we figure out how to do all that,” Jenks said.

I couldn’t help my smile. That totally worked for me.

Chapter 24

This tastes like moldy mulch,” I whispered as I set the tiny potion vial down and stifled a shudder at the gritty feel of it as I swallowed. The recipe made seven portions, and as I reached for another, I decided that I’d leave the last four for Trent. Elves had an affinity for blending into shadows, but the spelled ability to become virtually invisible seemed prudent. I didn’t know if elves could store potions like demons could, but we figured it was worth a try. I was finding out they were more alike than different, which was about par for the course. The more I knew, the more I realized everything I’d been told was probably wrong.

Trent’s breathing was slow and even as he napped on the cot, the light blanket pulled up almost over his head. He’d once told me that he envied the way most people could stay awake through the entire day, but I’d always thought it more effective to never need to sleep more than four hours at a go instead of an interminably long eight hours at a time. The world could end in eight hours and you’d never know until it was too late.

I hadn’t been surprised when Trent had suggested coming out here to spell. The hut was hard to find notwithstanding its being mere steps from his back office, even with the fire going and giving off a telltale thread of smoke. There was no running water or electricity, which made it a very secure place to spell, if a little small. The table I was working at was actually a fold-up job, slipped out from under the cot.

And I liked it here, away from the polished simplicity of most of Trent’s rooms. It was only here that I felt comfortable among the softer, earthy parts of Trent’s nature carefully hidden away from casual bruising. Here he kept his favorite books—the ones that had helped shaped his ideas of right and wrong. A small shrine to his mother glowed with candlelight next to the summoning circle set within the ley line that nicked the inside corner of the building. Mementos from camp and college were cheek by jowl with scientific awards, the layer of dust an accurate determination of when he’d won them. Thank-you letters and pictures from people he and his father had saved with illegal genetic medicines were shoved in drawers along with brochures of places he’d never have time to go. The hut held everything that was dear to him, everything too precious to have where people could see it. That the mantel now held Mr. Fish and that black chrysalis from Al made me feel more than good; it made me feel like I belonged.

My coffee, instant prepared from water warmed up over the open fire, was cold. I’d make more but I was afraid the scent might wake Trent, and I’d just as soon have him asleep while I finished up the prep for crashing Landon’s spelling party tomorrow. Not everything was legal, but nothing was immoral, and that was my guide these days.

I was tired of trying to overcome the bad guys with a few simple spells and throwing raw energy at them—as effective as it was. Earlier today Trent and I had made and imbibed potions to make ourselves almost invisible, to temporarily hold our breath for five minutes without stress, to make our hands sticky enough to climb walls, and to coat an attacker in a spiderweblike net. But after a morning of prepping spells and curses, I was beginning to have second thoughts. They all tasted like crap. I didn’t know how Al stood being his own spelling cupboard. I felt ill, as if I’d eaten bad yogurt. And what if I forgot the word of invocation?

But if Trent would stay asleep for ten more minutes, I had one more spell to craft, one I’d rather finish before he woke.

The soft hum of pixy wings pulled my attention to the tiny window over the bowl currently being used as a sink. Dust glittered in the sun as Jenks landed on the narrow sill. I slammed down a third potion as Jenks leaned over his knees, a stick of yew as tall as he was in his grip.

“Is this long enough?” he asked, panting as he glanced at the sleeping Trent in envy.

I nodded, carefully setting the four remaining potions aside and clearing the table. My pulse quickened. It wasn’t as if Trent would be mad, but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to count on the demons to help. I disagreed. I was sure I could get them to help us stave off the elven trickery. I mean, they knew Landon was lying. Why wouldn’t they help expose him? But to talk to the collective meant I needed another scrying mirror—something smaller this time, say small enough to fit in my shoulder bag.

“Thanks, Jenks,” I said as I took the plates with their crumbs of cheese and crackers to the makeshift sink. The pixy propped the stick against the side of the open window frame. It still sported bits of green and peeling bark, and I smiled, seeing where he’d wedged it off the plant.

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Jenks followed me to the table, coming to rest on my cold coffee cup as I swabbed the teak down with a salt water–soaked rag. Apparently teak was spell resistant. I hadn’t known, and it felt really weird to be spelling on it. “Can I help?” he asked, and then a draft sent his dust into the fireplace to flame up with a hiss.

“Ah, sure.” Brow furrowed, I shifted a footstool out of the path of a protection circle. It was inlaid right into the floor, making me wonder about Trent’s mom. This had been her spelling hut, and it was a fairly large circle for most casual users. “Keep an eye on Trent’s aura and let me know if he’s waking up.”

Jenks snorted, and I shot him a look to behave as I settled myself at the table with the hand mirror, bottle of wine, salt from Trent’s stash, and the rest. The charm would temporarily strip me of my aura, which was the reason for the circle. Closing my eyes, I reached out and strengthened my hold on the ley line.

Energy was a jolt instead of the usual calm flow, and my eyes started open. The line was only six feet away, but there was a raw, serrated feel to it that I’d never felt before. I had a bad feeling that it was the mystics and that I’d gotten used to the smooth silk of power that they naturally gave off like a living ley line.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” I muttered, glancing at Trent as I set the protective circle. Jenks was inside it with me, and his wings shifted in agitation as the molecule-thin sheet rose up and around us.

I was reaching for the knife to pare down the yew stick to a proper stylus when the silver bell over the fireplace made a single, beautiful peal of sound.

My heart seemed to stop. I looked to Trent, then Jenks, his dust shifting to an alarmed silver as he turned to that tiny slip of ley line that crossed the hut’s corner.

I spun to a stand. Al! The demon materialized in his green crushed velvet, his nose wrinkled and disdainfully brushing at his coat. “Al!” I almost hissed, still in my circle. Crap on toast, not again! At least he wasn’t drunk this time. “Get out!” I exclaimed softly.

Jenks took to the air when Al seemed to shake his foot free of the line and stepped closer to the fire. His sleeve brushed the edge of my circle and it fell with the sensation of winter snow, our auras being identical thanks to Newt. “I should have guessed you’d be here,” he said, a white-gloved hand reaching for the chrysalis he’d once given me. “Here, collected among that elf’s favorite things,” he finished bitterly.

“I’m not collected,” I whispered. “And put that down. It’s mine!”

Eyes mocking, Al succinctly put the black chrysalis into his front pocket, daring me.

Springs squeaked as Trent shifted on the cot, and my pulse quickened. Damn it, I’d wanted to talk to Al, but not in person, and not here! “Outside,” I demanded, grabbing his coat and tugging him to the door. “Now, before he wakes up.”

“Like I care,” he muttered, but he was moving, and I got behind him and pushed.

“I want to talk to you,” I said, again noticing he didn’t smell like burnt amber. “Alone,” I added, making Jenks bristle.

Al let himself be shoved out, but I think it was only because Jenks was having a personal issue with the “alone” comment. “Rache . . . ,” the pixy protested once we were outside.

“Stay here,” I demanded, tugging Al down the path. “I mean it. Just . . . keep Trent safe.”

“Trent!” the pixy yelped, releasing a burst of gold dust rivaling the sun.

“Do this for me!” I exclaimed, voice hardly above a whisper. “Al, walk with me.”

The demon snorted. “Walk with me . . . ,” he drawled. “How poetic. You’re turning into the little kingmaker, aren’t you?”

“Sweet ever-loving pixy piss,” Jenks griped. “I hope he turns your underwear to slugs!”

Jenks wouldn’t follow me right away, and tension brought my shoulders up to my ears when I realized I was shoving a demon through Trent’s private gardens. “How did you know I wanted to talk to you?” I said, pulse fast as I slowed down.

“I didn’t.” Al’s voice was low, distant almost as he touched a coiled fern frond and it gracefully unrolled with the sound of green. “I came to stop you from making a mistake.”

He came to stop me. My heart jumped at the thought that he might have forgiven me. I mean, he wasn’t throttling me or threatening me. But then my brief elation died. “It’s not a mistake. We could use your help in twisting Landon’s curse to dust.”

Al’s steady pace faltered, and I stopped in the middle of a tangled cricket-filled clearing.

“Rachel, you can’t shift the elven curse. The best you can hope for is *****rvive it. But it doesn’t matter. You must come now as we prepare.”

“Prepare for what? I’m not leaving Trent to do this alone. We could do this if the rest of you would help,” I accused, glad we were out of earshot of Trent’s hut.

Al reached for my arm, his hand falling back before it touched me. “No, we can’t,” he said with an infuriating sureness. “Trent has overestimated himself, and you won’t come out of this alive if you bind your fate to his.”

My brow furrowed. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Fire exploded against my cheek, and I stumbled back, hand pressed to my face as I reeled. Al caught me by the shoulder, jerking me back upright. He’d slapped me?

“Don’t toy with me,” Al whispered. “Trying to shift the elven curse will get you killed!”

He’d slapped me! “Hey!” I exclaimed, almost afraid. He had struck me because I’d used his pain to hurt him. “You walked away from me. You don’t have any say in what I do anymore, and if you hit me again, I’m going to smack you back!”

Al let me go. I tensed, but he turned away, his back bowed as he went to a cement bench. I hadn’t even known it was there, so covered in a rambling rose vine it was. Head down, Al waved his hand, brushing aside the vines to find a clear spot to sit. The scent of disturbed roses wafted out—one last bid for beauty before the autumn chill pinched the petals free.

He looked broken as he sat there with his elbows on his knees and stared at nothing. My cheek throbbed, and guilt swam up. I deserved to have been slapped. Using his own pain against him was cruel.

“We need your help,” I said, and he looked at me from under lowered eyebrows. My boots scuffed through the leaf mold to find paving as I shifted closer. There’d been a clearing here once—a patio maybe—and I went to sit on a broken statue. It looked as if it might have been a witches’ garden, though admittedly not a very sunny one.

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“Why do you care about the undead souls? The demons? Me?”

His last word held a painful vulnerability, and I tried to find a more comfortable position. “Because everyone deserves a chance to come back from their mistakes.” My roving eyes returned to find him sitting among the roses. “I should know.”

“You won’t come back from this one,” he said. “The elves are massed for destruction. Our destruction. The undead souls were the lure and the way. The elimination of the aged undead is a bonus, but it’s us they’re after. We couldn’t beat them when we were forty thousand strong. We are four hundred and thirteen now.”

His head dropped, and I frowned. Four hundred and thirteen? It had always seemed more than that, but perhaps it was the familiars who filled the shops and parties. “Trent stands with us,” I said, and Al sighed heavily.

“It cannot be done,” he said solemnly. “Come with me. We’re weaving a wall.”

“A wall,” I said flatly.

The lift of Al’s shoulders gave away his disdain for their own cowardice, but his jaw was set. “A wall to keep from being pulled back when they dissolve the lines.”

“A wall,” I said again, and he bared his teeth at me, daring me to call them cowards. “Al, walls are prisons. You need to break the original curse.”

“With four hundred of us?” he protested. “It can’t be done.”

I leaned forward, trying to cross the distance with my words. “That’s why you need the elves’ help.”

Al looked at me as if I was crazy, and maybe I was, but I stood, unable to sit any longer. “The elves are modifying an old curse, not making a new one,” I said, words rushing over themselves. “You told me yourself that was dangerous. All we have to do is end it!”

“And in the doing, we put ourselves in the stream itself,” he said sourly. “We will flounder and be lost.”

“You don’t know that!”

“We do!” he thundered, and I stiffened as I heard Jenks’s wings. He was somewhere close, but I said nothing as Al slumped, clearly frustrated.

“We know Landon will be the fulcrum,” I said, pacing now. “He’s in downtown Cincinnati, right by the square. We know his damn room number, Al! Ivy and Jenks can get us in—”

Al sat up, waving a hand disparagingly. “Why do I even try?”

“If we’re with him, we can shift the focus of the charm!” I protested. “Al!” I complained, my feet stopping as he frowned at me.

“There can be only one weaver in a spell that complex—”

“Then Trent and I will be a fulcrum and slant it the direction we want,” I pleaded.

“Rachel.” Al slumped. “We tried that. Their magic . . . It’s too strong.”

“Then we can try it again,” I insisted.

“Their magic is too strong!” he shouted, and I shut my mouth. Sighing, Al held a hand out to me, inviting me to sit down. “It can’t be done,” he said softly, never letting his hand fall, extending it for me.

Frustrated, I stomped over and sat down. “Cowards,” I accused.

“Realists,” he countered, but his anger was gone. The silence stretched. “What do you hope to get out of this?” Al asked, startling me.

“To end the war between you. To bring you home!” I said, and he actually smiled.

“No, I mean what do you want from the world? From everything?”

“Oh.” That was different, and the fire seemed to wash out of me. He’d come here to save me, save me again. “The same thing you do, I guess. A little peace to find out who I am.”

Slumped, Al looked out over the broken clearing. “There’s no peace but for the dead, and even that we’ve found a way to corrupt.”

It was starting to sound like a pity party, and I stood. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, remember? I have to go. I’ve got to make a scrying mirror before midnight.” Damn it, I was going to have to do this without their help. If I couldn’t convince even Al, then the rest were useless. I strode back to the path, arms swinging.

“Rachel?”

His call was so soft, yet it pulled me to a halt. I didn’t turn, standing there with my back to him, but he knew I was listening.

“You don’t need the mirror anymore to connect to the collective,” he said, voice holding a sliver of pain. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Mystics, I thought, shaking as I turned around to see him still on the bench.

“You haven’t for a long time,” he said, hands clasped between his knees, making him look worried and scared. “We, ah, hate to admit it, but demons are still tied to elven magic.”

My feet scuffed a few steps back. “Maybe it’s not elven. Maybe it just . . . is.”

Al rubbed his forehead. “I don’t remember.”

My hope flooded back, and I came to him, sitting so our knees almost touched, begging him to listen. “Al, I know we can do this. You may be only four hundred, but you have the gargoyles as anchors now. There’s support among the elves, hidden in the dewar. Vivian is trying to sway the witches’ coven. Professor Anders . . .” I hesitated. “Ah, she’s okay, right?”

Al waved a hand and sighed, his regret that she was indeed okay obvious.

“Well, she’s rallying the scientific community,” I continued. “You aren’t alone this time. Four hundred and thirteen survivors, but you are the ones who made it this far. Can’t you convince the rest we have a real chance?”

“It was beautiful here once,” Al said distantly, eyes on nothing.

“Al!” I shouted, then frowned as Jenks’s wings clattered. “I can’t walk away from this!”

“Right here, this spot,” the demon said, his hands beginning to glow. “The fountain was the perfect blending of sound and motion.” I started, eyes wide as a haze shimmered over the broken statuary and realities seemed to shift, focusing in and out until a mossy fountain of fish and antelope took form.

“The moonlight made the water into pearls, and the smell of the night vines was intoxicating,” Al whispered, and I could hear the water, see it. “There were pixies then. That bastard killed them all when she died. It wasn’t their fault.”

He was fingering the pocket where the chrysalis lay, and I couldn’t speak as I looked over a memory pulled from the recesses of time. The patio was new and clean, looking like midnight in the late noon sun. I knew without asking that he was talking about Trent’s mother and dad. “You were here?” I asked. “You knew them?”

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“I knew her.”

I leaned forward as the magic faded and reality imposed itself anew and the shattered ruin of the fountain smothered the spell. I could see a fin in the wreckage, and the curve of a graceful leg. All gone. All spoiled.

“Not everything changes, Rachel,” Al said as he stood up. “Some things just are.”

“So you won’t help,” I said.

His hand trembled as he set the chrysalis down on the broken statues. “No.”

“Then you’d better leave because I’m busy,” I said, eyes rising to a faint glimmer of pixy dust coming through the greenery.

Al said nothing, and I started when I turned to find him gone. Grimacing, I stood. Okay, some things changed, and it was up to those who cared to fight for the change they wanted.

“I’m sorry, Rache,” Jenks said as he hummed into the clearing.

“Me too.” Frustrated, I turned and went back to the spelling hut, hurt and sick at heart.

I left the chrysalis behind.

Chapter 25

The black van was borrowed from one of Ivy’s friends, and therefore untraceable past a fictional Hollows address. It smelled like Special K and blood lust under the acidic bite of disinfectant. Between that and the pheromones Ivy and Nina were dumping into the air, my vampire scars were tingling.

Looking across the front seat at Ivy, I muttered, “You need to relax,” all the while wishing the side windows would open a little more.

Ivy took a slow breath, stilling her painted nails as they drummed a frustrated staccato on the steering wheel. We’d been here for about ten minutes, and she hadn’t let go of it yet.

“This is relaxed,” Nina said, but she’d gotten up from her rear seat, moving forward with a pained slowness to avoid touching anyone. Kneeling beside Ivy, she put an arm around her back. Head tilting to rest almost on Ivy’s shoulder, she whispered something. Ivy sighed and the tension visibly flowed from her, her head thumping down to land upon Nina’s.

Happy, I turned back to retying my boots. I was glad that Ivy had someone and that it was Nina.

Ivy was decidedly polished in black slacks, white shirt with a collar, and a suit coat that was tailored to both show off her curves and scream “desk clerk” all at the same time. She’d even put on makeup. Nina looked even more professional, with bangles and a belt that I thought could be used as handcuffs in a pinch. They were going in first, coming out last, and keeping our way clean and open at all times.

But the snick-snick of a weapon being checked jerked my head back up. Nina had slipped into a seat, and Trent stiffened at the little pistol she was sighting down. “I said no weapons,” he said, leaning from the backseat with his hand outstretched.

“Rachel has one!” Nina complained as she held it close to her chest like a favorite doll. “How are we supposed to take the front desk if we can’t have guns?”

She knew darn well mine was just a splat gun, not considered lethal by the FIB or the I.S. thanks to some clever judicial loopholes. Jenks darted to her, his wings loud in the small space. “David’s got the front desk already,” he said, red dust slipping over her threateningly. “Ivy, you said she was ready for this. I don’t have the manpower to babysit her.”

Ivy sucked on her teeth, and with that as an almost silent rebuke, the zealous woman glumly handed the gun to Trent. “Can I keep my knife?” she asked sarcastically, and Trent nodded.

“Be careful how you use it.”

I exhaled as Trent put the gun in the van’s illegal “safe hole” and shut it. My eyes returned to the one-way back door of the hotel, waiting for a Were to signal us that the sixth floor was cleared; the staff in the break room for an emergency OSHA meeting; and the hotel ready to assume new, albeit temporary management. No guns. That was rule number one, four, and sixteen. This operation had an excellent chance of crashing down before we reached the end, and I didn’t want guns cluttering the issue. It was going to be hard enough *****rvive this.

“At least it’s not in the tunnels,” Trent said as he checked that his laces were tied.

A quiver, quickly quashed, lit through me. I liked the mix of thief, commando, and lover he had going for him. “You don’t like the tunnels?”

Coming up from his soft-soled boots, Trent lined his utilitarian hat with his spelling cap and settled it onto his head. “No. They’re damp and make me sneeze.”

“And cold,” Jenks added, looking just as good in his thief-black tights.

And cold, I echoed in my thoughts, hoping this stayed within the hotel. September was iffy for pixies, even those skilled in staying alive through a street chase as the sun went down, taking the temperature with it.

“There he is,” Ivy said, and my attention followed hers to the rear door. “Ready, Nina?”

A Were in a suit with his hair carefully corralled in a trendy ponytail was leaning halfway through the white fire door, beckoning us in. Nina started to get out, jerking to a halt when Trent caught her arm. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, and Ivy hesitated when he tugged her close, ignoring her tiny little fangs, now bared at him.

“No one dies, Nina. Especially if they deserve it. Understand?”

Her brow furrowed, and Trent pulled her closer, demanding an answer. Jenks hovered over his shoulder, and finally she accepted his dominance and nodded. Ivy took a slow breath, relieved. Nina was an odd mix now that Felix was gone, and no one quite trusted it.

“Just give us ten minutes to put everyone in a closet,” Ivy said to break the tension, but I could tell she was worried about Nina as she handed me the keys to the van and got out.

“Be right back, Rache,” Jenks said, then zipped out the side door with a sullen Nina.

Ivy’s pace was held to a deliberate, ***y stride as she went around the front and joined Nina and Jenks. I had a pang of worry that we were here alone and unsanctioned by any police force. But damn it, if we had brought the FIB into it, we’d still be arguing with Edden about vampires getting their souls being a bad thing. Even so, I hunched in guilt, wondering what that said about me. Who had changed, me or Trent? Stop it, Rachel.

“They’d better leave us something to do,” Nina complained as they neared the building, and Trent chuckled.

I licked my lips, worried as Jenks back-winged in front of Ivy and reminded her to put a box in the door to keep it from shutting. Ivy’s singsong “I got it, pixy!” was soft, and I smiled as she nudged it forward, waiting for Jenks’s approval before stepping over it. She was gone.

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Jenks gave me a thumbs-up and darted after her.

Ten minutes.

“We’ve got an hour until the undead can be aboveground,” I said, checking the clock on the van’s dash. “Twenty minutes until the equinox officially begins. We need to be in and out before then.” Forty minutes minus ten equals thirty. Why did we always cut these things so Turn-blasted close?

Trent was fidgeting, and I moved in a hunched walk to the back of the van. “Relax.”

Trent followed my gaze to his hands and shook the tension from them. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your people who are about to flush everything back to pre-Turn chaos. If I’d known they were going to do something this boneheaded, I wouldn’t have pushed to come out of the closet.”

It was nice of him to say, but I knew I was the real reason he’d lost clout. Frankly, I didn’t care anymore. We’d make them play nice in the sandbox, and that would be that. Nervous, I leaned to look at the clock on the dash, then knelt beside Trent to look out the window for Jenks. “They’re just scared.”

“Scared,” Trent scoffed, fiddling with the ends of his ribbon. “My people want a return to power so badly they don’t care who they step on to get it.”

I slid a sideways look at him. That had sounded kind of familiar, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

A sparkle of dust caught my breath, and I lurched to open the sliding door. It was Jenks, and he was carrying something heavy, his path slowly arching to the ground. It had been only two minutes. Something had gone wrong. “What happened?” I demanded, one hand on the side of the van as I leaned out and down to catch him. “Jenks?”

“It’s a key,” Trent said, holding my shoulder so I wouldn’t fall out. “I think we’re okay.”

With a burst of silver, Jenks rose up, clearly laboring. “Someone take this, will you?” he exclaimed, and a heavy brass key fell into my hand. “Tink save me from the artists! Every other hotel is in the twenty-first century and uses card keys, but no-o-o-o-o! We have to be special. We have to be extravagant! We have to be so far behind the times that it’s considered chic! Why the hell did I volunteer to bring it out for you?”

“Is everything okay?” I glanced at the clock. They couldn’t have secured the front desk that fast.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Jenks stood on my palm, wings drooping and a sheet of red dust pouring through my fingers. “That Nina is one scary bitch. Remind me not to stare her down again. The lobby and restaurant are cleared out. We figure he’s in 612. It’s the only one with a crib, according to housekeeping.”

“Lucy?” Trent exclaimed, almost hitting the ceiling as he stood. “She’s here?”

Jenks nodded, head still bowed as he caught his breath.

****, this changed everything. “Okay. Trent, if we find her you take her and get out. End of story. I can do this with Jenks.” His daughter came first. I understood and supported that, even as I was scrambling to adapt.

“Ah, Landon is probably in the adjoining room,” Jenks suggested, but his soulful, almost pitying expression told me he was just saying that to try to give Trent something to pin his worry to. We could not start a firefight in a room where Lucy was.

“I can’t endanger Lucy,” Trent said, his worry lines melting into alarm. “Rachel . . .”

“If we find her, she’s a priority,” I said. “You take her and go.”

“Yeah, cookie maker,” Jenks said as he took to the air again. “We got this in a can already. We just need to put a label on it and put it on a shelf. Let’s go.”

Looking ill, Trent rolled the door open.

“Is he going to be okay?” I breathed to Jenks, turning my lips up into a smile when Trent spun to help me out.

“It’s the people holding Lucy I’m worried about,” Jenks muttered, but I thought Trent might have heard as he wiggled his fingers impatiently for me. “We’re burning daylight, people,” Jenks prompted, and I grabbed my jacket and put my hand in Trent’s. Little tingles of energy balanced between us. The lump of my new cell phone was in a back pocket, and the cool feel of steel from my splat gun that never seemed to warm up was at the small of my back. Jittery, I closed the door, making the sound echo in the small space. Trent and I hustled forward as I shoved first one arm into my jacket, then the other. The leather would give me some protection against spells, both earth and some ley line.

“Which way, Jenks?” Trent asked as we stepped over the box and crept into the back receiving room, and Jenks hummed off at head height, intentionally dusting a thick yellow that would linger. The scent of excited vampire mixed with cinnamon and wine as we followed Jenks’s glowing path through the receiving area to the warmer kitchen, and finally into the bar.

I’d been to the Cincinnatian before, and I’d always thought having the bar just off the tiny lobby sort of elegant in the tight confines a city hotel demanded. The new decor—rich with texture and color—made up for the small space. The ringing of a phone pulled my attention to the front desk. Ivy’s eyes met mine, but I couldn’t smile. Lucy was here. It changed everything.

The light past the front desk was decidedly gray. We were getting close to the mark. My eyes went to the elevators and the Were fidgeting in a borrowed uniform keeping the lift at the lobby for us. The Weres had cleared the building with the understanding that they’d not be involved in a magical firefight. I could understand their reluctance. Even the I.S. didn’t send a Were out after a witch, much less a bunch of elves. “Jenks, does Ivy know about Lucy?” I asked, and he dusted a silent yes.

Trent took my elbow. “We don’t need Ivy,” he muttered as we angled to the ornate elevators, and he frowned when I made the finger sign for “be ready to move.”

Ivy’s eyes shifted to black. Her motions graceful and holding purpose, she swooped to answer the phone. A professional, polished greeting flowed from her, but I could see the tension growing. It was falling apart even before we got started.

“I said I have this,” Trent said again, his voice agitated as we got in the elevator.

“I never said you didn’t.” I pulled back in the tight confines of the lift. He was sending off sparks, and it was irritating.

Jenks smirked, smacking the button for the sixth floor, and the doors closed. “There’s a small contingent of Weres up there, but they won’t show unless you scream for them,” Jenks said, and Trent exhaled some of his tension. “We’re going in blind,” the pixy added, miffed.

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“Because of the keyed locks, right?” I said.

“Yes, because of the keyed locks,” Jenks said, hands on his hips. “Most of the doors fit too tightly against the floor, too. Tink-blasted fire codes. I can go in through the ductwork, but I don’t know the layout and it would take at least twenty minutes.”

We didn’t have twenty minutes, and I caught myself before I chewed on my lower lip.

“That’s why I got rid of my card system,” Trent said, but his brow was pinched and it was obvious he was thinking of Lucy. “We can’t go in spells flying if my daughter is in there.”

“We won’t,” I said as the doors opened.

“Then how are we going to do this?” he asked, tight on my heels as I followed Jenks into the elevator lobby.

“I don’t know yet.” My nose wrinkled. The scent of Were was thick up here, and there were signs of a scuffle, hastily cleaned up: the flower vase had no water, and there was a petal stuck to the glass that never would have passed inspection.

“Rachel . . . ,” Trent prompted, and I hesitated, seeing his worry for his daughter, for me, for his people.

“I don’t know, but I’ll be taken and beaten before I hurt Lucy.”

Jenks was waiting at the end of the hall, and my stomach tightened as I counted down the room numbers. Lucy was in one of them, probably the one with the crib.

“Which one?” Trent whispered as we came to the suite of rooms.

“Give me your phone,” I said as I had a sudden idea and held my hand out. “Lucy is probably with Ellasbeth, right?” I scrolled through Trent’s numbers called to find her. Trent nodded, eyes widening as I punched a button and put the phone to an ear. “So we find out what room she’s in.”

“Works for me,” Jenks said, hovering between us.

Trent’s cell was ringing, and we stared at the twin doors before us—waiting. There was only a muted conversation from a TV. My pulse hammered, and then, so soft as to almost be imagined, the repeated ping of an incoming call rang from a tiny speaker.

It was coming from behind us.

I spun. Jenks darted to one of the doors across the hall, pointing at it with exaggerated excitement. I slid Trent’s phone away and took up the smooth feel of cool steel instead.

“No spells,” Trent hissed.

“You think I’m going to shoot Lucy?” I said tartly.

Frowning, he took up a position on one side of the door, and I took the other. “Housekeeping,” I whispered, trying to keep the key from scraping as I fit it, but it was the master key and it needed some persuasion.

“Let me.” Trent wrenched the handle and the key at the same time, and the lock clicked open.

Jenks zipped in before the door was even half an inch out of the frame. “Moss-wipe elf!” he exclaimed, and Trent shoved the door open in a panic. “Tink’s a Disney whore. Rache!”

Panicked, Trent lurched in, leaving me to try to get the key out of the lock so I could shut the door. That call might have carried, and the last thing I wanted was Landon to find us.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jenks shrilled, and I finally got the key free. “I think you got him!”

Flushed, I shoved the door shut and bolted into the outer sitting room. Trent had one knee on the back of a big, blond, and unconscious man. The scent of ozone was thick, and Jenks’s dust sparked as it picked up the unspent magic. Behind them, Ellasbeth watched with wide eyes. She was tied to a chair and gagged, and my lips parted. Ellasbeth was tied to a chair? Oh, she was pissed, too, her face red and muffled shouts trying to escape around her gag. I wasn’t sure I wanted to untie her. Shaking with adrenaline, Trent looked up at me, then Ellasbeth. He made no move to untie her either, and the woman jumped in the chair, furious.

“Nicely done, Mr. Kung Fu!” Jenks said, clearly impressed. “You didn’t kill him this time!”

This time? I inched in. “Jenks, are we clear?”

“Yep.” He was grinning, hands on his h*ps as he looked at Ellasbeth’s fury.

Trent dropped the unconscious man’s gun. Face white, he strode to Ellasbeth and yanked the gag down. “Where’s Lucy?”

Ellasbeth took a gasping breath. “That son of a bitch!” she raved, blond hair in her mouth, her eyes everywhere. “He’s crazy! He’s going to kill the ley lines! He’s going to end magic!”

“Where is Lucy, Ellasbeth?” Trent demanded, and then his head snapped around at a delighted “Daddy!” from the back room.

I stumbled out of the way as Trent bolted to her. I couldn’t help my smile when I heard Lucy calling again, her little-child voice raised in delight. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Surprise!”

Jenks was at the door, looking in at them even as he hovered backward to me. “I love reunions,” he said, his dust shifting to a melancholy orange.

I looked at the clock on the wall, my smile fading. “Go get Ivy, will you?” I said, and Jenks’s dust shifted gray. Trent was out of it, and I needed help.

“You got it.” Jenks darted through the door and into the hallway as I opened it a crack.

“How about some help here?” Ellasbeth said bitterly.

Sighing, I listened to the quiet hallway, deciding everything was okay before I shut the door. “He tied you up, huh?” I asked as I used the downed elf’s knife to cut her bonds.

“Landon is a philistine,” she said, rubbing her wrists and wiggling her ankles for me to hurry up. “He’s tricking his own people into ending magic with the promise of killing all the demons. You can’t kill demons without magic. What if they aren’t pulled back? How do you do magic without the lines? You don’t!” She hesitated at the soft scuff at the bedroom door, her face going white as she looked at Trent standing there with Lucy on his hip, the little girl patting at his frown lines.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said, wiggling her feet. “Surprise!”

I blinked when a little purple rocking horse with wings suddenly appeared and Lucy squealed in delight. Al had taught her a new trick.

“Trent . . .”

Ellasbeth tried to stand, and I shoved her back down. Ticked, the woman frowned at me. “He’s using the vampires’ undead souls as an excuse to break the lines,” she said. “We have to stop him. With the lines broken, the ever-after—”

“Will shrink and implode on itself,” I said blandly, interrupting her as I freed her feet.

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“How do you know that?”

Finished, I rocked back and slowly stood, deciding to keep the knife. “Because I stopped Ku’Sox from doing the same thing. It must have given Landon the idea.”

She started to move, and I shook my head. “Stay put.”

“I didn’t know that was his plan,” Ellasbeth said, peeved but flicking nervous glances at the man Trent had downed. “I never meant it to get this out of hand. I only wanted to scare you, Trent. I’m so sorry.”

Trent’s white face wasn’t going away. Lucy was singing as she sat on his hip, and his expression became frightened as his eyes met mine. “I can’t,” he said, those two words almost tearing him in two.

“Daddy, where’s Ray-Ray?”

I swallowed hard as I remembered him forcing Lucy into my arms and demanding I leave, Trent willingly becoming Ku’Sox’s slave to save her. “Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, and Ellasbeth looked between us, her lips pressed as she tried to figure it out. “Jenks is getting Ivy. Get them both out of here.”

“What?” Ellasbeth said as I pulled her to her feet. “Hey!”

Angry, I took out a little of my misplaced aggression on her, pinching her shoulder and getting in her face. “You want to be tied up again?” I said sharply, and her anger flashed to fear. “Then get out of here.”

The man at my feet moved, and I pulled out my splat gun and shot him in the back. With a little sigh, he collapsed. Ellasbeth looked at him, then me, standing before her with a gun in one hand, a knife in the other. Slowly I handed the knife to Trent, who double-sheathed it with his own longer knife. “I suggest you go fast and quiet,” I added.

“Where’s-s-s-s-s Ray-Ray!” Lucy bubbled, clearly not frightened, but hey, the girl had been kidnapped three times now.

Smiling, Trent jiggled her on his hip. “Shhh, Lucy. We have to be quiet to go find Ray.”

The little girl bounced happily, then suddenly concentrated on her fingers until she got them to snap. The flying rocking horse exploded into a puff of pink smoke, and the little girl laughed, delighted. If we survived this, I was going to have to talk to Al about the spells little girls should and shouldn’t know.

But she was being way too loud, and as Ellasbeth darted around the room gathering her purse, her coat, her heels . . . whatever, I turned to Lucy, worried they wouldn’t get down that first crucial hallway. Trent wasn’t having much luck as Lucy kept making and exploding winged horses into little pink clouds “Lucy?” I said suddenly. “Do you want to play hide-and-seek?”

Trent sighed as Lucy stopped bouncing, her eyes going wide as she covered them. “Shhh,” she whispered, then flung her hands from her, smacking Trent in the face as she cried out, “Here I am!”

Smiling, I tugged her sweater straight. “That’s right. But you have to be quiet to find Ray. Shhhh. Ready?”

Trent’s free hand touched my waist, and I froze.

“Rachel . . . I . . .”

The door opened and I spun, relaxing when Jenks darted in, Ivy shutting the door softly behind herself.

“Just go,” I said, resisting the urge to straighten his hat after Lucy knocked it. “Ivy and I have this.”

Ellasbeth shrugged her long coat, looking at us as if jealous. “You can’t stop him without elven magic.”

“Watch us,” I said, my confidence faltering.

Jenks’s wings hummed. “Guys, my pixy sense is tingling.”

Trent stiffened. “It’s the curse. He’s starting it.”

“Then you’d better get going,” I said, shoving him to the hallway. “Ellasbeth, where are they?”

The woman’s lips pressed together. Ivy’s eyes shifted to black, and Jenks’s wings clattered a warning. But then Lucy giggled, and Ellasbeth’s shoulders slumped. “He’s across the hall,” she said. “But you can’t stop him. He’s got like six men in there.”

Jenks snickered, and my eyes flicked to the one who had been guarding her. I was going to miss Trent’s help, but hell, I’d been doing this long before I learned he was worth my trust. And to be honest, it would be easier if I wasn’t worrying about him.

Ready, I looked at Ivy, waiting by the door. Jenks was hovering at her shoulder, and I knew we had this. “Go,” I said, and Trent shifted Lucy on his hip.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes glinting as he hesitated briefly in front of me before putting a hand on Ellasbeth’s back and hustling her out the door and down the hallway. We followed them in case there was trouble. Lucy was whispering loudly, but I didn’t think it would make it past the thick doors and soundproofed walls.

“Just like old times,” Jenks said, and I couldn’t help my smile as I checked my hopper.

“Old times,” I scoffed, relishing the adrenaline scouring through me. “We’ve only been doing this for three years.”

“Yeah, but for a pixy, that’s like a decade.”

Ivy was testing the edge of the knife Trent had given her. Her head came up and she tossed it, catching it again to hold it properly. She looked at the door and then ****ed her head. “After you, Jenks?”

Jenks shrugged. “I can’t open it. It’s a manual.”

“Manual it is,” the vampire said, and with a soft grunt, she planted a side kick on the lock, exploding the door inward.

Chapter 26

The thick, supposedly kick-proof door took two blows of Ivy’s boot before the lock broke free of the studs and the door slammed into the opposite wall. Men shouted, and Ivy dove in, hands in fists and screaming. Jenks was a hot sparkle of dust after her, and I followed as the thuds of fists into flesh exploded into the snap of a wrist or knee and a masculine bellow of outrage.

Yep, it was going to be one of those days.

I slid to a halt in the well-appointed, low-ceilinged, brightly lit room, half of it arranged as a dining room with a small kitchenette, the other half a comfortable living room complete with big TV and two couches. Ivy was rising from the man she’d just downed, her eyes full and black and her shirt torn. She grinned at the two men by the couch, beckoning them forward.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted in warning, and I ducked, falling to a crouch and spinning with my leg extended to hit the man coming out of the bathroom. He was good, stumbling to avoid contact and going down into a controlled fall and rolling free of me.

I stood up—right into the arms of another man. He smelled like cheese as his arms wrapped around me, pinning my back to his front. Bad idea; I flung my head back, breaking his nose. The man bellowed but didn’t let go, and my eyes widened as the first man pointed a handgun at me.

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Adrenaline pounded. My head snapped back again as I broke his hold. Breath held, I spun him to stand between his buddy and me. The gun seemed to explode in the small room, and I shoved my living shield at the shooter, not knowing if he was shot or I was shot or we had both lucked out.

Arms flailing, my would-be attacker fell into the shooter and they crashed into the small dinette table. Drawing my splat gun, I shot them both. One last spasm, and they were still.

“Ivy!” I spun, then went down on one knee as another gun went off and fire engulfed my leg. My breath came in with a gasp and my free hand clamped over my thigh. A man across the room was pointing a gun at me. ****.

Howling, Ivy blocked a swinging lamp to jam the palm of her hand into someone’s jaw. Hair swinging, she planted her right foot and plowed the other into the man who’d shot me, sending him pinwheeling back into the window. He hit with a thud, shaken but not out. The lamp hit the floor and shattered.

Agony crept up my thigh, throbbing to my skull as I hobbled forward, splat gun pointed. Two puffs of air to put him out—and then I fell almost as fast as he had, my hand clamped to my leg. Light-headed, I sat on the couch, not letting go of my gun as Ivy took a last look around the room and strode forward. Blood was a slow but steady leak from my leg. We’d gotten them all, but where was Landon?

“You okay?” Ivy asked, winding her hair back into a bun as Jenks dusted my leg. There was no exit wound. It was still in there.

“I don’t know.” I strained to see the other side as the pain retreated into a heavy throb.

Ivy reached to touch it, and I jerked away. “It doesn’t look bad,” she said.

“Well, it hurts like hell.”

“That’s good then,” she said, her worry lines beginning to ease. “Where’s Landon?”

“Look out!” Jenks shouted, and my heart thudded. One of the men I thought I’d downed was aiming another one of those stupid guns at us.

“Move!” I shoved Ivy and brought up my splat gun. Please let there be enough propellant, I begged. I lunged for the floor, aim never wavering as I squeezed. The bang of the man’s gun echoed, drowning out the puff of my weapon. I hit the floor, my shoulder taking most of the force as the ugly sound of the bullet burrowing into the couch slid through me.

Heart pounding, I lay on the floor, watching the man’s eyes roll to the back of his head. I’d gotten him.

Ivy stood as the man’s head hit the floor with a thud. “Should have double-tapped him,” she said as she extended a hand to me.

“I was a little busy.” With a heave, she had me back on the couch. Where was Landon?

Ivy wiped her hand under her nose as Jenks flitted over the room, verifying that they were all down. “None of them used any magic,” she said uneasily.

“You noticed that too?”

Jenks’s wings clattered as he rose up. A door slid open and Landon strode out, flanked by two men with guns. “Because very shortly there won’t be any and I wanted to be prepared,” Landon said. “Shoot them.”

Ivy lunged for the cover of a fallen chair. I yanked her back to me, tapping the line and throwing a circle of protection around us. Bullets pinged off it, and Landon motioned for them to stop. His lips were in a tight line, and I thought he looked ridiculous in his tra***ional robes and that stupid flat-topped hat. Newt could get away with it, but not him.

“Landon, you’re an idiot!” I shouted, the scent of spent gunpowder making it through the barrier where bullets couldn’t. “I’m not letting you do this!”

Ivy grimaced. “Let me out.”

She darted her gaze to the doorway, and I dropped the circle.

Ivy was a blur, leaping to the doorway to hide behind a wall as they sprayed it. I rolled to the broken coffee table, peeking out to see Landon standing alone as his men advanced on Ivy. I didn’t know where Jenks was. If you’ve hurt him, Landon . . .

Vampire fast, Ivy burst from hiding, diving between the men with guns. One man accidentally shot the other in the chest while trying for her. He froze in shock as his buddy went down in a spray of blood—and then Ivy was on him. A kick to the back of his knee sent him to the carpet, and she tackled him. One leg wrapped around the last man’s neck and she began to squeeze. The man fought back, sending them crashing into the walls and furniture.

My leg throbbed as I stood. I had to lean heavily on the couch, pointing to Landon, then me, as if in invitation. Ivy could handle two men with automatics. Landon was mine. Where is Jenks?

“Trent chicken out?” Landon said, and I lurched a step closer as the unfocused magic in the room began to build.

“He’s taking his daughter and ex-fiancée out to lunch.”

His lip twitched as he followed the ramifications of that. “Call your vampire off and maybe you live.”

“Oh, I’m dead already,” I said, ignoring the pain as I pulled myself up straight. “It’s just a matter of how much damage I can do first.”

“Call her off, and maybe she lives,” he amended, and in the split second my eyes flicked to Ivy, his hand flamed with a white-hot fire.

Again pain exploded, this time in my chest. Wide eyed, I fell to kneel before Landon as I struggled to breathe, to keep my heart beating. In his hand was a twisted mass of my hair, taken probably from my brush at the church. He’d made a target-specific spell, and I couldn’t fight it.

“Son of a fairy whore!” Jenks shouted, back again. “Ivy! Quit playing with that guy! Rache needs help!”

“No, I don’t think so,” Landon murmured, and I heard Ivy hit the floor, groaning. The man she’d been choking rose, kicking at her as he screamed. I tried to move, but every muscle sang with fire. Breath fast and shallow, I gripped the carpet, pulling myself closer to him. I would not fail in this. I wouldn’t!

“If you’re going to be a demon, you should be a demon,” Landon said softly, and I twitched, my back arching as I fell, looking at the ceiling, trying to get a clean breath. Landon’s hands were glowing, a haze of purple hanging between them. Slowly his hands came together. Struggling, he pulled them apart to show a spiderweb spool of glittering gold hanging in the air. And then he blew it at me.

I could do nothing as it settled over me, seeping in past my aura, winding its way to my core. My heart pounded as it begin to search, little darts of magic moving through me like a parasite. Groaning, I rolled over, but it clung, soaked in. Tendrils wafted out past my skin and then fell back as if the curse was looking for something to use to invoke. A soft, insidious chanting came from Landon, along with the sounds of Ivy’s frustrated struggle and Jenks’s swearing.

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My eyes closed as the chant spun into the humming of my blood, settling into me like water, expanding my mind until it was unable to string two thoughts together. I recognized the spiderweb pattern. It was the curse that tied the demons to the ever-after, ages old and unbreakable—and Landon was trying to fix it on me.

It glittered in my thoughts like a living spell, and as I struggled to keep it from invoking, the sound of the drums quickened until it was as if I had been there at the beginning, watching ancient elves craft in the hollows of a primeval forest, calling upon their Goddess to give it the strength to last forever. And now it was seeking to bind itself to me.

Power slipped around my mental grasp like sunbeams, and abruptly I realized the curse was connecting me to Landon. Until the elven curse fixed upon me for good, we were bound together. There, in the background of his thoughts, was the curse to break the lines. I can take control of this, I thought, but not when I was fighting to get this damned binding curse off me.

“Let go,” Landon whispered, and I felt his breath on my cheek as he knelt over me while I curled into a ball and fought it. “Submit. End the pain,” he taunted.

But *****bmit would bind me to the ever-after. How long, I wondered, how long had Al fought? Newt? My breath came in a ragged gasp as the winding wisps of the binding curse seemed to find my soul. “No,” I groaned, even as it wove deeper.

The stinging slap of his hand meeting my cheek pulled my eyes open. Landon hung over me, sweat beading on him. “Let go!” he demanded. “Be a demon. Die with them.”

My eyes searched until they found Jenks and Ivy, held at bay by my torture.

“No,” I forced out between clenched teeth, then screamed when he leaned on my shot leg. Agony arched through me. “Get off!” I shouted, flooding him with a jolt of power.

Landon fell back with a cry of outrage, but the second of inattention cost me, and I gasped again, scrambling to catch the binding curse before it settled in any deeper. It didn’t have me yet, but the feel of it was familiar, and with a shock, I realized that it drew its strength from the Goddess’s will. Can I use this?

“Son of a whore!” Jenks shouted, and Landon laughed as Ivy began to struggle as well, held down by Landon’s last man, bloodied but still intact.

Jenks was free, darting madly and scoring on the incensed man. “Jenks, no,” I tried to shout, my voice failing. Ivy was down. We were losing, losing badly, and my heart leapt into my throat when, with an ugly snarl, Landon got a lucky strike in and Jenks was flung into the wall.

“Jenks!” I staggered to a kneel, and the binding curse dug deeper. It was the Goddess’s magic, but Jenks was in danger, and I didn’t have time for it. Lurching to Jenks, I sent a wave of force through me, driving the binding curse to my chi where I bubbled it, the hateful thing hissing and black like living tar. I might not be able to get rid of it, but I sure as hell could capture it—hold it in limbo.

I fell before Jenks, hands reaching. He was breathing, and fingers shaking, I lifted him, wanting him to be okay. His wings sparkled, and his eyes were closed.

“You don’t know when to stay down, do you,” Landon snarled, and something hit the back of my head.

I reeled, clutching Jenks to me as I fell. Landon hit me again, and I let him, curled into a ball to protect Jenks.

“Get your hands off Ivy, you sons of bitches!” Nina screamed.

“Nina!” Ivy called out in panic. “Help Rachel!”

But it was Trent who pried Landon off me, his smooth unworked hands glowing with a power I could feel. A great boom of sound pulled my head up, and Nina dove at the man holding Ivy, wrenching her free and snapping the man’s neck.

“Jenks,” I whispered, then cowered, one hand holding him to my middle when a second boom of sound shook the room. Dust shifted down, and a wall fell, showing a bedroom.

“Rachel!” Ivy was shouting. “Go help Rachel!”

But the half-crazed vampire went for Landon. He stood in a circle, fire dripping from his hands. Trent was poised between us, energy licking his feet and sparking from his hair. Nina howled, and as Ivy reached to stop her, the woman dove at Landon.

“No!” I shouted, and with a sneer, Landon pushed a silver-rimmed ball of energy at her.

It hit Nina with the sliding sound of chains, and with a jerk that snapped her head forward, she was propelled backward into a far wall. She hit with a sickening thud and slid down, arms and legs askew.

“Oh God, Nina . . . ,” Ivy whispered, coughing in the dusty air as she crawled to her.

Trent stood between Landon and me, shaking in anger. “You use borrowed power, Landon. I want it back.”

Ivy looked up from Nina, hatred in her black, black eyes. Landon met them, and I swear he quailed. Everyone he had used to protect him was down. “Right,” Landon said, spinning to mark a circle.

“He’s jumping!” I shouted. The sparkle of power rose up as if in slow motion, and I lurched forward, Jenks still in my grip. Trent tackled me, and I hit the carpet, my fist holding Jenks jamming into my solar plexus. Tears sprang up as I tried to breathe, and with a nasty smile, Landon vanished.

“Not this time,” I groaned, eyes clamped shut as I sank a tendril of thought deep in his mind. That curse he’d tried to bind me with was still in my soul, and we would be connected until it became a part of me and was fully invoked. I distantly heard Trent shouting my name, and I smiled as I felt the real world swallowed up by the imagined, but no less real, world of the dewar. I was on the floor in the hotel, but my mind was elsewhere, surrounded by elves.

Thoughts not my own beat at me, and I hid my mind behind Landon’s as he sent a wave of emotion and domination over them all, collecting the rising power to bend it to one will. He didn’t know I was there in his soul. I could feel his fear of what had happened and his relief because he thought he had escaped.

The dewar was exactly like the demon collective or the witches’ coven—there but not a joining of minds yet, each one remaining an individual. The sound of drums shifted the beat of my heart, and the chant tickled a memory I’d never had.

The dewar elves were spelling, and as their power rose, given direction by Landon’s will, a growing sensation of division blossomed with it, like ink on a blank page. Vivian? I thought, then quashed it lest Landon know my soul was here, piggybacked on his thoughts. But it was Vivian, and Professor Anders, and a handful of other bright silver thoughts striding through the ponderous beat of the rising curse. Their song was a half step out of sync as they tried to break the curse and prevent the lines from ending, but their voices were small and easily lost.